


Midsummer

by lilmissmaya



Series: Fuss and Bother [7]
Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Angst, Chronic Illness, Dancing, Drinking, Fluff and Angst, I swear, M/M, deaf snufkin, discussion of suicidal thoughts, there is some fun stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-28 04:44:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20058229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilmissmaya/pseuds/lilmissmaya
Summary: days grow long, nights short, and life goes on. Midsummer's eve is soon, and the boys are determined to make a good night of it. but hanging over them is this thought: what if snufkin's health gets worse?but then snufkin remembers something, something important...





	1. Chapter 1

Life in moomin valley carried on as it usually did. The days grew longer as it headed towards midsummer, the weather bright and hot. Folk moved back into their homes or built new ones, gardens laid out, life moved on.

With the summer weather as it was, moomin and snufkin often slept on their porch in order to catch the breeze. It was a good place to hang out and spend lazy afternoons. 

Moomin and his friends were spending one such afternoon on the porch, coming up with ideas for the rest of the summer. Snufkin was curled up against moomin’s side, the weather a good excuse for a deliciously lazy nap rather than often being unable to much more than sleep. He was recovering, but it felt slow. The fevers ebbed away and the headaches eased off as long as he didn’t try to read. He ached, he was weak and tired easily, and moomin had made him a cane that helped out quite a bit. If only Little My would stop stealing it. 

So on this afternoon, snufkin dozed while the others talked and lazily sorted through a pile of pebbles and shells. 

“-and there’ll be a big pile of sweet rolls too, according to mrs. hedgehog.” snorkmaiden mentioned, stringing shells to make a necklace.

“It sounds so good,” moomin sighed. “I wish I could go.”

“Hm?” snufkin looked up from under his hat. “Where do you want to go?”

“Oh, um, the midsummer bonfire, there’s going to be a big party.”

“Well, we should go then.” he sat up carefully, his hips complaining about the movement. “It sounds like fun.”

“What? Really? You hate parties.” oh he did. But-

“You want to go, so we’ll go. I’ll wear my nice clothes.” he hated parties- but moomin deserved it. He needed an evening of fun without worrying about him.

“Oh snufkin-” moomin sighed. Sniff made a gagging noise, but snufkin missed it. 

“That’s wonderful!” snorkmaiden turned a delighted yellow. “We’ll all go together!”

“Are you sure about it, snufkin?” moomin asked later in the half-darkness of the summer night. “We don’t have to go.”

“We’re going, moomin-dear. Where’s my cane? Groke take her…” he grumbled, using the kitchen table to support himself. His knee ached horribly, and he wanted to put as little weight as possible on it. “You like parties. We’ll eat the snacks and drink rum punch. Are we out of honey?”

“There’s sugar in the tin.” 

“Good.” he grabbed it and their tea cups. “Is joxter coming in for tea?”

“No, I think he’s asleep already.”

“More for us.” he set the teacups down on the table with the tin of sugar, then made his way back to the stove to get the kettle. Moomin watched, it was important to his husband to do things, even when it looked like it hurt and he wanted nothing more than to fuss and do everything for him. “Could you cut the bread?”

Moomin nodded and sliced them a few pieces, buttering it heavily, then after a moment of thought, added a slice of cheese. Snufkin made it back with the kettle, pouring hot water into the pot to steep. He finally sat down heavily, rubbing his leg.

“Is it bad tonight?”

“Not that bad.” he lied. “Do you think momma will make the cheese and sausage balls for the party?”

“You are not stealing and eating the entire bowl of them.” moomin chided softly, pouring their tea. “Just ask her to make a dish for you and a dish for everyone else.” something relaxed in his chest. This felt… normal. 

“I might do that, they are very good.” he put sugar in their tea, two for each out of habit. He took a sip, then added more. Moomin smiled into his own cup. Snufkin had gotten such a sweet tooth, just like joxter. 

“What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking about you.” he smiled and nibbled on his snack.


	2. Chapter 2

Moomin and snufkin often visited the moomin house for supper. No matter if it was a surprise, moominmamma always had enough food for them. (frankly, it was a surprise to her that they didn’t stop by every night. Joxter certainly dropped by as much as possible for a second supper. Her cooking was much better than snufkin’s.)

The topic of conversation was the midsummer bonfire of course. Getting enough wood, the food, the cooking. Dancing.

“Let me fire up the virola.” pappa said as the dishes were cleared off the table. “Get some practice in!”

“What a fine idea, pappa.” Mamma said serenely, taking off her apron so it wouldn’t get in the way. “Boys, move the chairs to clear some space, would you?”

The living room was turned into an impromptu ballroom and everyone paired up… except snufkin. He settled off to the side to watch. It was hard to dance when you couldn’t hear the music-

But as he watched them stumble and get the hang of the steps, he realized it was mostly moving to a four count. Forward, forward, back, back-turn. He could do that, as long as someone gave him the tempo. He ached, but he forgot all about it in the excitement.

“Moomin,” his husband looked up as he met up with him across the floor. “Let’s try something!”

“Yeah?” but he grinned. 

“Just give me the tempo, I think I can do it.” moomin nodded as the others watched curiously, and the record was started again. One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four. The steps came back to him easily. He knew how to dance- just not necessarily liked going to them. Well, he liked the music. He tried not to think about that part. 

“Snufkin, that’s really good!” moomin tapped his shoulder and pointed to his mother, she repeated herself for him. “May I try with you?”

“Sure!” he took her paws and showed her the steps, then again with a different song and dance for snorkmaiden. The joxter watched from the couch and smoked quietly, too lazy to get involved with something as energetic as dancing. A round with moomin to show him the dance steps to the second one, and another with Little My because she was pouting. By that point he had to stop, his hips complaining about the exercise. Crud, and they still had to walk home-

Moomin met his gaze and tilted his head. He didn’t even ask, but he didn’t have to. 

“It’s pretty late, how about snufkin and I sleep over?” oh thank him. 

“Of course.” Mamma said, knowing exactly why he asked. 

“Ah, you boys can taste the wine and tell me what you think!” pappa rushed to the kitchen to find the wine in question and some glasses.

“Wine?” joxter said, peering out from under his hat.

“Yes, the apple wine I bottled two years ago! It should be perfect. And then the pear from last year, and the elderberry-” he brought an armful of wine bottles in. Mamma sighed and went to the kitchen, snorkmaiden following her since she had little taste for pappa’s experiments. 

“This is the apple.” he poured a glass for each of them. Moomin sipped curiously, the joxter drinking it down in a go. Snufkin sniffed it, it smelled… sweet. Straw-colored, almost syrupy. 

He took a sip. It was sweet and strong, burning all the way down. The second sip went down easier, hitting his stomach and filling him with warmth. The glass was empty before he knew it, and pappa was refilling it with something else. It was purple, a bit more sour and he started to relax. Long-held tension started to melt out of his shoulders. Pappa must have thought he liked it because he gave him another glass. And the more he drank it, the more he liked it. Or was it the warm feeling he liked? He melted a bit against moomin as he and his father talked, the aches he’d been living with for weeks finally going away. 

This was… nice. Dangerously nice. Just… not thinking, just enjoying the soft feeling of moomin’s fur, being limp as a rag. He was finally comfortable. And moomin was playing with his hair-

“Did he fall asleep already?” joxter didn’t look any worse the wear for his drinking. Moomin was still on his first one. Pappa’s wine was always too sweet for him. 

“It might be a bit strong…” pappa said sheepishly. 

“It’ll be good mixed with the punch.” joxter declared, pouring himself some more apple wine. “What do you think, moomin?”

“I think I’ll put snufkin to bed.” he gave his glass to his pappa, shaking snufkin to wake him up enough to get him to his feet.

“I’ll come with you,” the joxter said, smoothly rising from the couch. “I want to talk to you anyway.”

“Me?” he blinked. “What about?”

“Him.” he nodded down to the half-asleep snufkin, oblivious to what they were saying.

Snufkin went to bed easily, the wine having relaxed him. Or maybe snufkin hadn’t been sleeping well- moomin shook his head. As long as he wasn’t hungover in the morning.

The joxter tugged him out, his grip tight compared to the casual look on his face. 

“Moomin-” he started out, then glanced around. “When snufkin and I were talking on the boat-” he paused, shuffled, looked around. “He talked about dying. I’m worried…”

“He’s doing much better now.” moomin interrupted. As if saying it often enough would make it true. “He’s cheered up alot, he even wants to go to the bonfire.”

“That’s good, but still.” he rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t think I drank enough for this conversation.” he muttered, more to himself. “I’m worried he might kill himself. He doesn’t want to be a burden, he can barely walk at times… I’ve seen him with the cane, don’t look at me like that.”

“He just gets tired easy. But he’s doing better!”

“Just- just keep an eye on him, okay? Don’t leave him alone. Just for now.”

Moomin thought about it, through the night, into the next day. Snufkin was more cheerful, was trying to cook. Tried to help with the gardening though he had a hard time getting up and down. Maybe joxter was just worrying too much. He was a dad after all, and maybe snufkin had just been talking out of his head with the fever. 

He’d been.. So sick… moomin tried not to think about. He was getting better, he just needed some time. He was trying, that meant he was okay in his heart, right?

But then again, that conversation he and snufkin had- when he asked snufkin not to go where he couldn’t follow… he’d just be more careful.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the bit with the suicide talk. you can skip it if it will bother you.

Snufkin was not bad at sewing. He had to mend his own clothes after all, and once in a while make something from scratch. His good pants, the ones he was given for his wedding, were much too loose. Even with the belt, they needed taken in. simple enough.

But his hands weren’t cooperating, or was it his head? The stitches were clumsy and uneven, it blurred when he tried to focus, and all he got for his trouble was a headache. He rubbed his eyes, and took out the mess he made with the thread. He had to admit he needed help. 

He bundled the pants into a bag and made his way to the moominhouse. He left his cane outside, hoping Little My wouldn’t run off with it before he left. Thinking about the walk back home… uphill… it made his joints hurt. (he did not want to think about how if he drank a glass or two of apple wine, he’d be so much more comfortable. That was a slippery slope.) he rubbed his shoulder and went to look for moominmamma. 

He found snorkmaiden in the kitchen, her own sewing kit out. 

“Oh snufkin!” she said in surprise, putting her embroidery away. “Is moomin with you?”

“He’s helping pappa stack the wood for the bonfire.” he tried not to limp as he stepped into the kitchen. “Is mamma around?”

“She’s in the garden. Can I help?”

“Could you take these in for me? They’re too loose now.” he offered her the pants. She looked up, confused for a moment.

“I thought you could sew?”

“Things have been blurry since I had that concussion.” it wasn’t a complete lie. He hated lying but- he...was just tired of being the sick one. “I try to sew and I get a headache.”

“Oh, okay!” she said cheerfully, taking the pants from him. “There’s lemonade if you’re thirsty.”

“Thank you.” he said, getting a drink and trying not to make noise when he sat down. At least he wasn’t out of breath from just walking across the room. 

“Are you okay?” she had noticed, despite his best efforts. 

“A bit stiff today. Maybe it’s going to rain?”

“Oh, I hope not! What if all the firewood gets wet?” she was distracted enough to not ask more questions, but she was quick to get up to refill his glass for him, when he moved to get more. 

He was grateful for that. She chattered on and he nodded, only half paying attention to the talk of flowers and food and if she would wear powder, the boys that may be there to see her...

“Thank you snorkmaiden.” he said, and meant it, giving her an uncharacteristic hug.

And then swore quietly when he reached the porch and found his cane missing again. 

“Little My!” he bellowed, frustration bleeding over. “Where are you?!”

“Are you looking for something?” she peered over the edge of the porch, grinning at him. 

“Give it back. I need it to get back home.”

“Give what back?” she said innocently, taking a seat with the cane over her lap.

“That.”

“This? This is my new fishing pole. Why would you need it to get home?”

“It’s my cane, you know that.” he hissed, quickly losing his temper. He was tired, he wanted to get back to his cottage. Away from people that might see him limp, or worse, trip and fall. People who would worry and fuss. He crossed the porch to grab it, but she hopped out of reach, grinning the whole time.   
“Little My, I can’t play this game, I really can’t.” frustrated tears were starting to come up. “I need that.”

“Really?” she challenged. “I think you’re just using it to keep moomin fussing on you. Gives you a good excuse to stay in town.”

He froze. He wasn’t doing that… was he? He wasn't making this up, it wasn’t all in his head-

There was movement in the corner of his eye, he glanced over. Moomin. 

He strode over to Little My and grabbed the cane out of her hands. 

“If I catch you doing this again-” he threatened, face scowled up, “I will feed you to the fish.”

“Yeah right.” but she stepped back from him. “It’s too heavy to be a good fishing pole anyway.”

He couldn’t look at moomin as he limped down the stairs, but accepted a paw and the cane. It was more dignified than being carried, but not by much. He caught a glimpse of snorkmaiden standing at the doorway, did she see this? He hunched down, ducking his head so no one could see the tears welling up. stupid.

Moomin said nothing, just a paw on the small of his back. 

Half way home he stopped and sat on a stump, face buried in his hands. Moomin held back for a moment. He had been doing so well...he thought about what joxter said. He thought about that conversation he and snufkin had, where snufkin was so afraid of being not like himself anymore. Trapped. Sick.   
He sat down and pulled snufkin onto his lap. He shook for a minute or so, before pulling away and rubbing his face. 

“Damn her to the groke.” he muttered.

“I know you’re not faking.” he tilted snufkin’s face towards him, so he could understand. He knew every line of his face, knew when he was grey and tired. He knew how hard this was on him.

“You’re too sweet, moomin.” he buried his face in his shoulder.

He really should do something special for moomin. Something… food wise? His husband always appreciated food. 

It came to him as he was grubbing up new potatoes. He’d been somewhere on his travels, near the sea. He’d met with a group of other travelers and they had made a dish, boiling the little potatoes in seawater, and cooking clams in pine needles. It was a little ways to the beach, but… doable. If he took a break while he was there, took a break on the way back- yes. He could do it. It’d be a nice treat. He washed up the potatoes, found a bag and a bucket, and took his cane. It felt good to have a goal. 

The house was much too quiet when moomin came home, carrying a load of firewood. It’d be silly to call for snufkin, so moomin resisted. But still, even if he was asleep somewhere, the house wouldn’t have such an...empty feel to it. 

Panic grew in the pit of moomin’s stomach. Yesterday had been bad, that bit with Little My. no matter what snufkin had said, it’d hurt him. He was trying so hard- he wouldn’t… he wouldn’t do anything… 

“Snufkin?!” he yelled out, rushing through the house, running around it. He wasn’t in the house, he wasn’t around the house, he wasn’t at the stream fishing-

He nearly fainted in relief when snufkin stepped out of the woods from the path to the beach. His pants were sandy and rolled up to the knee, a dripping bag over his shoulder and a bucket in hand. He blinked at moomin, struggling to keep from spilling the bucket when he was tackled into a huge hug.

“What’s wrong? Are your parents okay?”

“No! I mean, yes, they are okay but-” he sniffled, clinging to him tighter. “I couldn’t find you and I thought you might have hurt yourself-”

“I’m sorry moomin, I went to the beach to get stuff for dinner. Let me get this on to boil?” moomin followed him to the cooking fire they used in the summer, snufkin stoked it up and poured the seawater into the pot to heat. The clams were set aside in the bucket with cold stream water to await their fate. 

“There.” he smiled with satisfaction before turning to moomin. Seeing him all teary-eyed sobered him, and he settled down by him. “What’s wrong?”

“Joxter talked to me the other day, about a talk you and him had when we were coming back home.” Snufkin tried to remember… and came up with a blank.

“I really don’t remember much about that whole adventure.” he tried not to fiddle with his hands, lacing their fingers together so they would sit quietly in his lap. No, not a blank, just a feverish jumble of colors and voices. Heat, thirst, a horrible pounding in his head. 

“He’s worried you might kill yourself.”

Oh. 

“I…” he twisted his fingers again, trying not to fidget. He… couldn’t lie about this. “I thought about it.”

Moomin’s face crumpled. 

“But we talked and it passed. You were right, I promised not to go where you can’t follow. I don’t want to hurt you, I can’t hurt you. All I can do… is make some good memories for us if the worst should happen.”

“You can’t think like that, snufkin.” he grabbed snufkin’s hands in his paws, squeezing tightly. 

“That fever nearly killed me last time. I’m not that strong now, if it should hit me that hard again-”

“-it won’t!”

“If it should hit me again, I might not make it.” he should feel sad about it, or afraid. He... didn’t feel much at all. “No, let’s not worry about it. I’m making supper for you.” he nuzzled moomin, reluctantly pulling away so he could put the potatoes in the water. “The saltwater should season the potatoes…” he trailed off. There was something important about that memory. 

“Snufkin?” he shook his head, shaking off the cobwebs. Between the concussion and that last fever, he must have really fried his brain. 

“Help me find the pan and plenty of pine needles. I dug up clams-”

That feeling of something he should be remembering nagged at him. the taste of the potatoes, seawater, pine needles. Talking to folk from…. It was blank. He remembered the food. The beach. Why was this memory important?


	4. Chapter 4

He woke up with the headache that heralded a fever the morning of the bonfire. Frustrating was not the word for it, this was an important day. He’d Promised to Go. 

He dunked himself in the cold stream to wash up, staying in it until he shivered. Maybe that would bring the fever down. 

Despite that, he was still miserable when they headed to the bonfire. No, he was going to have a Good Time. he promised. But there were so many people, so much activity, he nearly turned around and went home. 

“Why don’t you get us something to drink, and I’ll get us some food?” moomin suggested. Good idea. Drinks. Alcohol. A couple glasses of rum punch in him and he’d be much more fun. He found his way over to the punchbowl, drank one quickly before taking back a glass for himself and moomin. The entire valley had really turned out, a way of celebrating the fact that the flood didn't kill them and hadn’t ruined everything. People kept stopping him, touching him, asking him how moomin and him were doing. How he was doing, they heard there was a close thing. So much small talk, he pasted on a fake smile and gritted his teeth. 

At least until the alcohol settled in his system and he found himself relaxing, bit by bit. Words came easier, the tension he’d been holding draining out. Someone refilled his glass with the apple wine and the headache went away. 

He finally found moomin sitting on a bale of straw and snuggled up to him. 

“Having fun? I saw you talking to the hedgehogs.”

“Yeah, they wanted to talk about…” he made a rolling gesture with his hand, somehow not spilling his drink. “I don’t know. Everyone’s chatty.”

“Here, line your stomach before you drink too much.” moomin gave him a plate in exchange for the drinks. Sausage balls, small boiled and fried potatoes, chopped and candied angelica. 

Potatoes, he pondered again between bites and more wine. Why were the potatoes so important and nagging at him? 

Moomin pulled him to his feet as the music started, his own eyes bright. 

“Shall we?” whatever he was thinking flew out of his head. 

“Yes!” he squeezed moomin’s paws. 

There was dancing, there was more drinking. More dancing as the sun dipped towards the horizon, but never quite made it. The bonfire was lit, the flames reaching high into the sky. 

Snufkin finally had to stop, sweat sticking his embroidered shirt to his skin. He was dizzy, from alcohol or fever. 

“I need a break.” he said, much too loudly before laughing. Moomin looked so excited, a flush under his fur. “Go dance with snorkmaiden for a while, okay?”

“You sure? You’re okay?”

“Yeah! I just need to sit and catch my breath.” he thumped moomin on the shoulder before stumbling off towards the edge of the party. Someone gave him another drink and he drank it down before finding a cool patch of grass to flop on. 

He half-dreamed, somewhere between sleep and awareness that fever can bring. 

Fevers… what did that have to do with the potatoes? The sand, the beach. Travelers, no, they were fleeing from somewhere. He helped them find their way and they cooked a meal for him. What were they fleeing?

Fever. There had been an outbreak of fever in the cities and they brought it with them-

Moomin found him dozing in a cool little hollow under a tree. He looked sweet there, one hand curled under his cheek. 

“Snuuuuuf-kin.” he sing-sang, one paw rubbing his husband’s belly. “Wake up.”

“Moomin?” he slurred, still half-dreaming. “I remembered-”

“Hm?” moomin nuzzled his neck, pretty drunk himself now. Snufkin made a pleased groan, arching his head to one side to give him more access.

“It’s important, I remembered-” moomin’s paws pushed up his shirt and dipped into the waistband of his pants, “I know- ohh…” it turned into a husky moan, his husband finding just the right place. “There, yes.”

The morning found them curled up in the grass, disheveled but satisfied. It wasn’t the answer to all their problems, but it was a much needed release. Snufkin’s poor wedding shirt, so lovingly embroidered, was a near-loss. But they didn’t mind, snuggled together like the newly-weds they still were.   
The sun crept up their bodies as they dozed, until it shone on moomin’s face. He grumbled and shifted, in no mood to get up quite yet. But the sun followed, until he had to get up. All around him, other party-goers were doing much the same, sleeping off the late night, too much food and too much drink. He shook snufkin’s shoulder, his husband grumbled and tried to hide his face in his sleeve. 

“Time to get up.” he shook him again. He grumbled more but sat up, squinting at the sun. “you alright?”

“My head hurts.” he rubbed his forehead. “Let's go back to sleep.”

“Let's go home, then we can sleep. Being on the ground isn’t going to do you any favors.”

Both were still a little drunk from the night before, needing each other and the tree in order to get upright. 

“What were you talking about last night?” moomin asked as they weaved and wobbled towards their cottage.

“Eh?”

“You said you remembered something- snufkin?” he’d frozen in the middle of the path, eyes wide.

“I remembered, where I think I caught the fever. I need to talk to mamma, maybe, maybe we can find a treatment!” his eyes were bright, feverishly so. But for the first time he could see hope in snufkin’s eyes. His own hopes lifted, taking his hand in his paws. 

“Okay! Let’s see if mamma is up!”


	5. Chapter 5

_The weather had been hot, wet and the travelers inexperienced. Some were sick and snufkin helped out as much as he could. His herbcraft was not as extensive as moominmamma but he did what he could for them. Over supper they told him their story. They were from a city of canals, they said, and a fever wind had blown through. One where the fevers came and went. Sometimes settled in the lungs, sometimes in the bones. If the fever didn’t kill you right away, it would after it wore you down. They had tried to flee the city, to outrun the fever wind, but it followed them-_

Moominmamma listened over her coffee cup. Relapsing fever… they had a name. They knew where he must have caught it from. But the cure... 

“A bitter bark.” snufkin said. He looked feverish again, pale and flushed. He curled around the mug, like he was trying to warm himself up from a chill no one else could feel. “The treatment is a bitter bark.”

“Mala aria is a relapsing fever, it’s treated with cinchona bark.” she nodded. She stood up, looking for her handbag. “I’ll have to go to one of the bigger towns to get it.”

“I did it? I figured it out?”

“Yes you did, sweety.” she cupped his face in her paws, cradling him gently before kissing his forehead. “Get some rest. I will go get the cinchona, but I won’t be back until late.”

She had her own, quiet doubts. Not about snufkin’s memory, he was right and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought about it. It wasn’t common in the cooler valleys like moomin valley, so she hadn’t considered it. But snufkin traveled hither and yon- why couldn’t he catch a fever from the bright water-cities in the south? But… the bark didn’t always work. And he’d been sick for a long while now, who to say he wasn’t too far gone for it? No. he was still strong. She’s been treating it like it was a cold and dry illness. He needed the cooler, bitter ingredients for a hot and wet illness, which is why that one fever powder sometimes helped. He just needed a stronger treatment. 

She packed herself a lunch into her handbag and a straw hat for the sun and headed down the path from the blue house. Pappa was in his hammock, sleeping off a hangover of epic proportions. He would likely be there when she came back. 

“I’m just hungover, moomin. Really. That apple wine was really strong.” but moomin knew better and snufkin knew it. He sighed. “I’ll drink a lot of water and I’ll be fine.”

He tried to stand up from the kitchen table and his legs gave out. Moomin caught him easily.

“I’ll put you to bed.”

“I…” the room spun. “I don’t think I can make it up all those stairs.”

“The guest room?” snorkmaiden suggested, propping him up from the other side. “Only one set.” moomin nodded. 

“Just one set, snufkin. We can do that.”

“Yeah…” he agreed, not knowing what moomin or snorkmaiden said. The room steadied and he managed up the stairs, one by one. He wasn't going to be sick. Nope, he wasn’t going to allow it. 

His body had other plans. 

“You’re okay snufkin.” snorkmaiden said, as she helped him up the stairs. She patted his face with her paws. “You’re doing just fine.”

As long as he closed his eyes, he was okay. No, that was a lie. His body didn’t want to hold him up, it was much happier laying down in bed. He was hungover, still drunk, he told himself as he laid down. Moomin curled up with him and he moved closer. 

“I’ll be okay,” he said, half dreaming already. “Mamma will get the medicine, and I’ll be okay.”

With fevers, it was hard to tell the passage of time. He was dreaming, of gardening. Of cooking. Fishing. Moomin’s body, moomin exploring his own. The routine and fantastic. He didn’t know what was real and what was dreaming. At some point, moomin was calling for him, momma was holding his jaw and making him drink something that tasted terrible. That couldn’t be right, she just went off on the path out of moomin valley. It tasted terrible, but he didn’t fight against her. He loved her, right? She was his momma, more than anyone else. It went down hard, he wanted to take it, but it was so bitter. 

Mamma. Moomin. He dreamed dreams that felt real, but couldn’t be. He burned, he froze. He was drowning, over and over. Filled his mouth and nose, his lungs burning. She took his jaw in her paws and poured the bitter, burning liquid down his throat. And he went back to dreaming, drifting in warm darkness. 

He woke up, confused. It was the half-dark that made the midsummer nights, had he slept so long? He felt wrung-out but curiously clear-headed. And thirsty. And when did he put on pajamas? How had moomin done that without waking him up? He should see if mamma made it home yet.

He sat up and pulled off the blanket, only to find his father suddenly next to him. 

“Hey there, don’t- oh hey, boy-o, you’re back with us.”

“Dad? What are you doing here?”

“You were really delicious, You kept trying to get up and falling there for a while- how do you feel? Momma’s been pouring that nasty stuff down your throat for days.”

Days? he rubbed his face. That explained a few things. “...hungry.”

“That’s a good sign, right? I’ll bring you some supper, you stay there.” he rushed out. Snufkin sunk down into the pillows. He felt weak… but the haze that had been hanging over him for the last year was gone. Did that mean the treatment worked? He’d still have to take it for a while to make sure the fever was gone- but… he felt hope. 

Moomin poked his nose around the door, hesitantly looking in as if he wasn’t sure what he’d find.

“Hey moomin.” 

“You’re awake!” moomin nearly tackled him, crushing him in delight. “Oh I was so-” he choked, squeezing him tightly. Snufkin hugged back, nuzzling his soft snout. 

“I’m okay now. Oh don’t cry, I’m okay now.” moomin was crying anyway.

Momma appeared with joxter in tow, a tray of food in her paws. Simple things, pancakes with butter, tea. Plain eggs on toast. For the first time in ages he had an appetite, demolishing the tray. She didn’t say much, sitting on the bed next to him as if she couldn’t believe what she saw. She couldn’t help it, stroking the back of his head as he ate. 

“Thank you momma, that was good.” he felt better with a full belly, leaning against moomin to enjoy his warmth. 

“I haven’t seen you eat like that in a while.” she said proudly. “I’ll make pasta for supper tomorrow. And maybe some liverwurst, you look like you need the iron.”

“Thank you.” and he smiled and it felt real.

It took nearly a week before he managed to walk down the stairs on his own. He was still weak, and grateful for the cane. But he was steadier on his feet, and moomin kept telling him how much better he looked. Snufkin couldn’t see it yet, nor was he so vain to look for it. But his appetite was better, and thanks to momma’s cooking he was gaining weight back. That reassured him more than anything they had figured it out, they had found the right medicine. He’d lose weight during the fevers, be unable to gain it back. He’d been almost frail. (easy enough to hide under baggy coats, at least… for a while.)

So it was a relief. He’d continue taking the medicine for a while, just to make sure, but… the pressure was off. There was a future. Maybe next winter he could…. 

He paused. 

He hadn’t left moominvalley by himself in nearly a year and a half. He was now married, he had a cottage to share with moomin. Did he want to leave?   
Would he be happy keeping his life in this valley? Had he agreed to all this because he wasn’t sure there was going to be a chance he could go wandering again?

Oh he needed to stop worrying about it. Napping in the sun and fishing, that’s what he should think about. Getting fat and picking flowers. Sleep this winter away with moomin. Next year… will be next year. He and moomin could talk about it later.

Right now moomin was waving to him from the bridge that led to the moomin house, waiting for him. It was time to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end! (unless I can think of something else for them to do-)  
thank you all for reading and the nice comments on this series! it's been emotional writing all this. if you all have ideas for what I write next, let me know, either here in the comments or on my tumblr at https://animalswithfancyhats.tumblr.com/   
take care and please leave comments! thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> this may or may not be the last chapter of fuss and bother! there will be a happy ending, don't worry, you just may cry before you get there.   
I thrive on validation, so leave comments I love them and read each one!


End file.
